Survival
by kaiba-x-and-x-jou
Summary: The White Dragon tribe and the Black Dragon tribe have been at war for longer than anyone can still remember. Fifty years ago, the White Dragons cast a terrible curse that backfired on them too. Now, a blond soldier from the Black Dragons has been captured. Will he be the secret to ensuring their survival? Puppyshipping. MPREG.
Cecilia paused as she walked along the line of survivors from the enemy's attack force. She stopped before one messy blond hair and defiant brown eyes. There was _something_ wrong with his magic signature as she tested him but she couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Is he a magician?" The Captain behind her demanded.

"No… none of them are. But here is something about _this_ one. I don't recognise what it is, but I'm getting an odd reading."

"So we can kill them?"

"I'd like to take this one back. See if I can test what it is."

The Captain scowled. "We don't take prisoners of war."

"Oh it'll only be a couple of hours. Then you can put him to death like the rest of them." She rolled her eyes at him.

"I shouldn't let you…"

"Captain Crawford, we could waste our time sending a horse to Town Hall to get their permission, or you could release him to me now and we can all get home before sunset."

The silver-haired man glared at her with his one eye. "You've detected an unusual magical signature. You are authorized to take him back to your labs to extract the magic for the Convent. Then you will report him to the Council for execution." He gestured his sargent forward. "Release him to Ms Valentine. The rest of them you can take care of."

The blond looked panicked and confused as a soldier pushed him out of line with the muzzle of his gun. Cecilia turned her back on him and stalked toward her carriage.

* * *

"You're doing well, Mokuba," Kaiba encouraged. "Just remember they pronounce their esses harder than us." He stood up when he spotted the housemaid in the doorway. "I've asked not to be disturbed when I'm with my brother."

"I know, sir. But The Lab called. Your presence is requested urgently."

He sighed in irritation—he had office hours for a reason. "Let them know I'll be along shortly." He dismissed her with a wave and headed back to his brother's table. "I've been called to The Lab, Mokuba," he explained. He pointed to a history book open on the table. "I want the next chapter of that perfected for you to read to me when I get back."

"Yes, Seto," Mokuba replied.

He rested a hand on his brother's head and then headed out of the house. He didn't know what the lab wanted with him but he planned to tear them a new one for interrupting him. When he spotted Noa there however, he knew he wouldn't get to. If they were summoning the Governor General, it must be important. He nodded silently to who was _technically_ his older brother, and followed behind him. The secretary had already gotten out of his seat to open the elevator for them. Kaiba nodded to him in acknowledgement because he knew that Noa wouldn't.

As the elevator descended down to the floors below the ground, they kept silence between them. Once the door opened, however, and they were following one of the junior scientists, Noa spoke: "How's Mokuba?"

"He's fine," Kaiba answered, irritated. "If you cared so much, you could come to visit him."

Noa just gave him an irritated look as they came to the lead scientist's private lab. Doctor Valentine was there, arguing with Captain Crawford. "But he's not some science experiment!"

"We can't just send him back! It could be the secret to unlocking—"

Noa cleared his throat. The two of them stopped and turned—Dr Valentine bowed to Noa, the Captain saluted.

Kaiba nodded to her. "Cecilia."

"Seto."

Noa was glaring past them both to the observation window. "What's he doing here?"

Kaiba followed his eyesight and raised his eyebrows. An enemy soldier was sitting on the examination bed. His weapons and the spiked armour of his shoulders and torso had been removed. He was still wearing the scaled vambraces and the greaves. His oddly shaped face—which would have given him away if the Black Dragon armour didn't—was settled into long-lasting confusion. The kind he didn't expect to be answered any time soon.

Silently, he sent a probing wave of magic into the room. The blond didn't even twitch, but _something_ resonated. He scowled. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't place it. He turned to the others, hoping he hadn't missed the explanation.

"So, at Ms Valentine's request, I authorized her to bring them back to The Lab to try and extract whatever it was for the Convent's use."

Noa looked grim. "I should have been contacted before you brought an enemy soldier. Remember that next time." He folded his arms. "So what did you discover with your examination?"

Captain Crawford looked uncomfortable. Dr Valentine hesitated, as if trying to figure out how to phrase her answer. "Life."

Noa frowned in confusion. "So… he's alive."

"No. He's… carrying life."

Seto inhaled sharply. He turned, staring at the blond as he sent another sense toward him again. "Fuck," he said. "That's exactly what it feels like. But that's what… that's impossible."

"So we thought," she agreed, nodding. "But… there's a heartbeat."

Noa gave a bitter smile. "So they figured out the answer to the curse before us. How did they do it?" He demanded impatiently.

"We don't know," she answered. "We couldn't find any traces of the ritual."

"Put all your best magicians on the solution," he commanded. "What else did you call us down for?"

She bit her lip, glancing toward the observation window. "I want to keep him here to study."

"No," Captain Crawford snapped. "He's not some lab rat. He's carrying an unborn child—the first one we've seen in twelve years. The first _they've_ had for twenty years. Think what they must've done to buy this. We have to send him back to them."

Noa took a seat, studying the blond with a contemplative expression. "We can't keep him here. The alchemy, experimental magic, sterility… that's an awful environment for fostering a healthy pregnancy."

"So we send him. I'll arrange my best soldiers to guard."

He tapped his fingers on the desk. Kaiba waited—that was why he had been summoned there. He'd played diplomat a few times before. Mostly to negotiate temporary ceasefires when times were too hard. "No."

Everyone froze, before turning to look at the Governor General.

"That won't work either," Noa continued. "He's seen too much by now…" He smirked. "Besides. They wouldn't waste this solution on one measly footsoldier. They're bound to be waiting on any number. We can keep _just one_ of them."

Kaiba scowled at him. "You've got to be kidding," he snapped. "H's a Black Dragon. The child will be Black Dragon. We can't keep them!"

Noa's glare hardened. "I will confer with the Council of Five on the matter. We will decide the matter, your input is not necessary."

There was an awkward pause, Dr Valentine and Captain Crawford not knowing what to say in wake of that. Eventually, she stepped forward. "If you want to keep him somewhere else, where will he go?"

"The last living midwife," Noa responded. "The terms won't be exact I suppose, but she's the most qualified."

Kaiba scowled. "Then I am to take him with me?"

Noa smirked. "Thank you for volunteering, Mr Kaiba." He gestured. "Captain, you may escort me out."

Kaiba turned to Dr Valentine with a sigh. "Cecilia…"

"No, I wouldn't have known it would've ended this way. Don't blame me. I wanted to keep him here."

He frowned. "So what did you call me over for?"

"Your tongue," she replied. "I was hoping you'd get here before the Governor General. He doesn't talk the Blue Tongue."

"You wanted me to explain why he wasn't going to leave the lab?" He questioned.

"No…" She turned so they were both watching the blond—who was now plucking at his vanguard his agitated movements. "I don't think he knows."

"He doesn't **know**?" Kaiba replied, incredulous.

"I don't think… Look, he's the first fertile person we know of born for fifty years. If he knew… if the Black Dragons knew, they wouldn't let him go as a frontline soldier. They wouldn't risk it."

He frowned. "Fuck," he said ineloquently. "We have to tell him."

"And I can't."

"Fuck. _I_ have to tell him."

She smiled at him apologetically and led him over to the door into the observation room. "Good luck."

* * *

Jou looked up at the door so the damned thing opened. He expected the blonde with from before—instead it was someone new. Well… not completely new. "I've seen you before."

The brunet paused, closing the door behind him. "I'm the ' _two-faced_ '. You've probably seen me on the field before."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "You mean diplomat. ' _Two-facer_ '." He dropped the buckle of the vanguard he'd been fiddling with. "Yeah. You needed a peace because your crops weren't growing and you needed the warriors to farm instead of fight."

The brunet tilted his head at that. "You remember that quite detailed."

Jou rolled his eyes. He remembered because he couldn't believe how blinded and selfish the White Dragons had been. They hadn't been able to grow crops for twenty years because of the war and a curse, but _they_ needed a peace so they could grow their weak crops. Eventually the war would wipe out both of their tribes and that would be the end of it.

He frowned warily as the brunet took a seat on the same chair the witch had taken before. There she'd run him over with crystals and strange talismans. She'd had such an impatient frown—as if she'd been impatient to figure out what mystery she had plucked him from the firing squad for. Then she'd gasped, her eyes going wide, before hurrying from the room. It had been a long wait, bored out of his mind, before the diplomat came in.

"So what's the play here?" He demanded suspiciously. "Everyone knows that White Dragons don't take P.O.W.s."

The brunet paused, a slight frown on his face. "Witch Valentine detected an odd energy and brought you to discover the cause of it." He paused, looking uncomfortable and awkward. Jou stared him down, giving him no pity for his discomfort. "You're carrying a child."

He gasped. The only thing he could think of for a long moment was: ' _it worked_ '. Eventually, he shifted and looked away from the diplomat. "So White Dragons do have some mercy after all." He crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at his reflection.

"You don't seem surprised," the brunet commented, "given that it has been thought impossible for all of time."

Jou scowled at the brunet's reflection. "Your witches' curse made all the women unable to conceive children."'

The diplomat raised his eyebrows. "Because men aren't equipped to have children."

Jou glared at him angrily. "Your tribe isn't the only one with witches."

"So it was some kind of ritual."

Jou's eyes hardened. He'd been tricked out of information he felt like he shouldn't have given away. He clenched his jaw tightly, signalling he was going to hold his tongue on that matter. "So I take it I'm no longer on the firing line."

"We've always shown mercy to unborn children," the diplomat replied, offended.

"Except when you _cursed our tribe to never have any more_ ," Jou hissed angrily. "You wouldn't know if you were merciful or not!"

The diplomat frowned. "The Council of Five will meet and decide what to do about you."

"And I get to stay in this lovely place until your grumpy old man decide when it's morally acceptable to murder me."

The frown deepened. Eventually, he said: "no, not here. You are to come with me."

Jou wrinkled his face up "Why **you**?" He demanded.

"I have a midwife in residence," the diplomat replied. "You'll be made comfortable and taken care of."

He was more confused by that, but he decided not to argue. The diplomat's accent was strange, and irritating, and he didn't want to listen to it any more. He got to his feet and gestured the diplomat to lead the way.

He went to the door, knocking on it and waiting for the blond witch. She questioned him as they left—he could tell from the sound of her voice as she spoke. He growled something at her that had her laughing. For a moment, she reminded Jou so much of the blonde witch from home. A pang lodged somewhere between his stomach and his lungs. He would never go home. In that exact moment, he knew it to be true.

He ignored them both and headed to the door he'd been dragged through. The diplomat had to hurry after him, which gave him a small burst of victory. He was, for now, their prisoner—but he was not cowed by them. And he never would be.

* * *

Kaiba was not particularly pleased by the unwanted guest coming to his home by the indirect command of the Governor General. He stepped inside the foyer of his home, annoyed that the housemaid had let the lamps go out. He flicked his fingers at them, little flames bursting to life with a spark of his magic.

He began walking again, and paused when he didn't hear the sound of the Black Dragon—with his heavily armoured boots—following him. He turned to look and cocked his head to see him sitting on the ground and trying to undo his greaves so he could take his shoes.

"What are you doing?"

The blond looked up, as if surprised by the question. "They don't come off unless the greaves are unbuckled."

Kaiba eyed the soles of the boots. "They're not muddy. You don't have to take them off." The blond gave him a shocked, startled look. As if it was an outrageous statement. A thought occurred to him: "Black Dragons always take off their shoes when they enter a home, don't they?"

The other just nodded, and bowed his head to turn his attention back to the task at hand.

Finally, the housemaid showed up. She looked irritated, and her curtsey was a little shallow. "Welcome home, sir."

The return to their flowing, melodic Blue Tongue was a relief. "Is Nanny in her room?"

"We're all at dinner," she replied. Which, he supposed, explained some of her irritation. "Shall I fetch her?"

"No." He gestured to the blond. "Help our guest with his shoes, then escort him to the spare room near hers. You can send him up a tray of food, and tell Nanny to come see me in the study once she's finished eating."

Her eyes slid past him to the blond that had finally managed to unbuckle one of the greaves. Her face screwed up in disgust. "But that's a Stain, sir. Why is it here?"

The blond clearly recognised the derogative term for his tribe. He looked up at her in disgust and hissed in the Red Tongue: "Ghost." Which Kaiba assumed was the equivalent term for _their_ tribe.

"The sooner you've got him settled in, the sooner you'll be free to return to dinner," he warned her.

She sniffed in insult, but curtsied again.

Kaiba turned back to him. "Follow the maid. She'll show you to your room." The Black Dragon just shrugged in answer, saying nothing. To his maid, he said: "I'll be in the study with Mokuba. Don't let us be interrupted unless it's important." And then he left.

Mokuba was sitting by the fire, not reading the book Kaiba had asked him to. When his older brother cleared his throat, Mokuba jumped up and tried to stuff the book beside the armrest. "Welcome came, Seto! What did Cecilia want?"

Kaiba sighed, sitting in the other armchair. "That's a long answer." But because he didn't believe in hiding things from his brother, he explained bout their new 'guest'.

After the explanation, Mokuba's nose wrinkled up in confusion. "But people can't **get** pregnant. You said that's why I was the only kid left around here."

"The women can't get pregnant," Kaiba answered. "That's the curse our grandfather laid." He frowned. "Men don't have the anatomy to be able to bear children… But apparently the Black Dragons invented a ritual that changed that." He gave Mokuba a warm, fond smile. "It feels the same as you did before you were born."

Mokuba gave a sort of 'yuck' face. "…so can I talk to him? To practice my Red Tongue?"

Kaiba frowned. "We'll see. For now, he's acting very compliant. But that may change. I'll let you now." He smirked. "Now about that chapter of the History book…"


End file.
